<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Fire and Feathers by ADwobbitInDisguise</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598262">Fire and Feathers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADwobbitInDisguise/pseuds/ADwobbitInDisguise'>ADwobbitInDisguise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Hobbit Stories nobody asked for [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU - Bilbo and Thorin have a child, Bilbo didn't know how to raise a child, Dead Thorin Oakenshield, Elladan and Elrohir are cool older brothers, Gen, Updated sporadically, no don't ask me how, short-ish chapters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:34:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADwobbitInDisguise/pseuds/ADwobbitInDisguise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The world was not a kind place, not by far. My siblings knew it, my Ada knew it, and once I realized it as well I could see all the flaws this beautiful cruel world had. But let’s go back a few decades, to where it all started, and that story starts in a hole in the ground, for there lived a hobbit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield (past)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Hobbit Stories nobody asked for [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017619</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I am not owner of The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings all credits go to their respective owners, I only own Zimrahin and the plot.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bilbo Baggins of Bag End had always been a very tough person, in fact, he prided himself on that, for his toughness was so great he had survived a dragon, war, and the elves of Mirkwood. Yes, he was very tough, but pain resistant he was not, especially when the pain was not physical. You see, Bilbo had gone on an adventure almost ten years ago, it was perhaps the best and worst decision he had ever made.</p><p>In this adventure of his, Bilbo had found many a thing. Friendship, grief, but most of all, love. Poor Bilbo had fallen for the King of Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield that is, and he had been loved back, my had he been loved back. But he had lost it, the one to give him the love his soul craved so much had fallen.</p><p>Thorin Oakenshield was long dead.</p><p>But he had left something behind; a seed of love and happiness after he freed Erebor from the dragon Smaug, and the seed buried had bloomed within Bilbo. Though it took quite a bit, 4 years to be exact down to the date for Oakenshield’s child was born on Durin’s day. The babe had been small, so very small, with more hair on his head than most would have in all of their lives and slightly pointed ears and all was well, until the little one opened his eyes that is. Until that wretched Sapphire blue Bilbo had once loved so much looked back at him, but Thorin was not there, what looked at him were the eyes of a stranger, still, with a heavy heart Bilbo tried to raise the babe, to love the wee one, he really did try but any time those blue eyes looked at him it reminded Bilbo that this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, that he shouldn’t have to be dealing with a toddler, by himself, in the otherwise empty smial. That in another world he had married Thorin, that he had gotten to see Thorin meet his child and raise him. But that wasn’t what happened, and try as he might he could not bring himself to care for the child, not like this, not while knowing all it could have been.</p><p>But still, he wished no harm upon the faunt, so he did the best thing he could think of, and went on his last trip for many years after that.</p><p>To Rivendell.</p><p>He was well-received there for him and lord Elrond had known each other for a decade now, and on his second day he explained and begged that he could not care for the child whose name hadn't been spoken since the day of his birth, but he knew many elven couples wished for a child, and rare as children were for elves he figured, why not?</p><p>Lord Elrond accepted, a matter of fact he took the child as his own, and there the child who had once been but a mere faunt became Zimrahin of the House of Elrond, Hobbit name locked away not to be heard of for many decades.</p><p>And I suppose there, is where this story actually starts.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1: Sunlike Smiles and Winterless Childhoods.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Zimrahin had always been a happy child, it is said he had laughed when they were born, but of course, that was a lie, for no child would laugh in their birth, Zimrahin had actually not even quite cried, he had sobbed once and then stayed quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But still, he was a happy child, how could he not with his life for all sakes and purposes being perfect. He had grown in The Valley of Imladris, where evil never quite reached and the gardens always bloomed with some flower or another. He had wonderful siblings, though he didn’t see Estel too often, that was normal though, Estel was a ranger. He didn’t see Elladan or Ellohir too often either, too busy hunting orcs, but they always came back at least 6 times a year, and they always were there on Zimrahin’s birthday. Arwen didn’t leave too often though, so they got to spend time together a lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, of course, was his Ada, Lord Elrond Peredhel. He ruled over The Valley most would simply call Rivendell, and he was perfect, everything Zimrahin wanted to be. Zimrahin envied his brothers for they looked like their Ada, but oh well, he knew there was no way for him to look elven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zimrahin knew he was adopted. Of course, he did. The hints of hair in their feet and the wild and curly hair showed he was no elf, even if his pointed ears said otherwise. Then again even his ears were too curved to look elven. And he was okay with that, Estel wasn’t an elf either after all. Zimrahin did not know who his birth parents were though, all he knew was that he was both Hobbit and Dwarf and that one of them was good friends with his Ada. But it was okay, he didn’t miss them, he had his Ada and he was the only parent he needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He also had uncles, and some cousins, some even lived there in The Valley with him!! His uncles Lindir and Glorfindel were awesome. Lindir was his tutor as well, making sure “he would be the most educated young man in the whole wide world” he told Zimrahin once. Glorfindel was different, one moment calm and the next filled with too much energy. He didn’t leave The Valley often, but when he had too much energy to be contained in the peaceful home he would travel under disguise for a few weeks and he always came back with gifts of course. His brothers brought gifts too but uncle Glorindel’s were always grand. A book on Dwarven Culture, a quill with the strangest feather, and perhaps his favourite from the many travels: a silk-like scarf embroidered with some strange string that made the night sky pattern look as if the stars themselves had been stolen from the night firmament. Glorfindel had never told him where he had gotten it, but he knew it must have been hard to find.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His other cousins and uncles he saw less. He had not seen Thranduil in ages, but Legolas came with Estel every few years. Haldir only talked through letters, as it would be a while yet until he was allowed to travel to Lothlorien again, it was a very uncommon journey to make, but he had been told next time Arwen went he too would be invited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zimrahin was also very special in other ways, there were hints the faunt would develop magic in later years. It had been Gandalf to be the one to discover it, the magic running through the child seemed familiar he said, similar to that of the Maia but not quite the same. Still, that would be a worry for later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything would change soon, for he was approaching his 20th birthday. Still quite young but it was special, he would be presented to the rest of society as a Son of Elrond after all. No longer a secret only the elves knew of, and honestly;</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could not wait.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter two: Pretty Robes and a Prince’s thoughts.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If you were to ask Zimrahin, “what was the part you least liked on your birthday” he would have to say the clothes. Don’t get him wrong, Elven clothing was delicate, an elleth’s dress would flow in silk-like a river and the tunics much like he was wearing were perfect for all weathers. But they always had one problem; They got dirty too fast and easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, this usually isn’t a problem, Elven children tend to be less rough and active than those of other races. With barely any actively liking roughhousing or running around in the freshly cut grass and the dirt after a rainfall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Zimrahin was no elf, and whether or not he was raised by one didn’t stop the energy in his body that wanted to play every second of the day (well, food breaks were an exception). He knew he couldn’t just go and play though as he was wearing the finest clothes he had ever seen and he had even managed to convince Lindir of letting him wear the starry scarf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this very moment, he truly looked like a prince, and he couldn’t help but think for a splitting second; “this is how I’m meant to look like”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although he had had a private celebration in the early morning with only his family as was a tradition between them, he also had a big party and people from all Arda would come. Today was the day he would actually be shown to the outside public and he was very, very nervous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The walk to the courtyard was probably the longest he had ever taken, or at least it felt like it (nevermind the fact he actively ran the distance to it daily just to play) and with every step the clinks of the crystals and little decorations on his head only made him realize, “this is happening, oh my vala this is actually happening”. Arriving at the big closed doors didn’t help either, he swore he was about to faint-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until a big hand placed itself on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s okay Lil’ bit, just go out, look pretty, smile and afterwards we can go eat cake, yeah?” of course uncle Glorfindel would try to calm him down. To be fair it did work, one sigh and nod later the doors were open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zimrahin wanted to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were so many people. Some were applauding, others even shouted and screamed (and if part of these ‘others’ were his brothers well, no one was really surprised), yet none of that matters because the second Lord Elrond took his hand and put him by his side proclaiming him as one of his own it felt like home, and when Zimrahin looked around and saw the smiles of those that helped raise him, he knew as he smiled;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All was well.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter three: Strange Boxes and Tiny Ravens.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few days had passed after the ceremony and in that time a strange package had arrived at Rivendell, carried by a proud looking raven with a strange colouration on its feathers.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The package was directed to Zimrahin of course, though not by name. Still, the letter on it directed to his father let them all know who the receiver was supposed to be. Inside of the package itself was a rather nicely carved box made of oak (which somehow made his father flinch) and was engraved with images of flowers. Each of them carefully made, though the patterns on the wood also made Zimrahin aware the maker was a Dwarf. Inside the box were a few things;</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><ul>
<li>
<span>Two Bracers made of some metal he wasn’t sure of, they had cute engravings though, similar to that on his father's brooch.</span>
</li>
</ul><p>
  
</p><ul>
<li>
<span>A beautiful pipe, though he would not be using it for some time yet, still he admired the design, the pipe itself had a very nice floral theme, with a ring of them surrounding the bowl and made of oak.</span>
</li>
</ul><p>
  
</p><ul>
<li>
<span>A smaller box, this too was made of oaken wood and with engravings of what he heard his father call Mithril, a very expensive metal from what he’s heard. Inside were two hair beads, though one had a note to be saved until ‘he was told’ whatever that meant. The other one had a nice geometric design, with what he recognized as some kind of gem on the very centre in the shape of a star, the small paper told him that it was meant to mean ‘Dwarf son’ and that it would aid him to convince any dwarrow he may meet in need of buying or trading.</span>
</li>
</ul><p>
  
</p><ul>
<li>
<span>At very last was another box, this one tiny and not very decorated, inside was a single egg, snuggled comfortably on cotton, a small note told him hastily to keep it warm as the father of the egg had chosen it personally to be the boy’s companion.</span>
</li>
</ul><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the gifts were put to safety in his room, except for the bead on the boy’s newly braided hair and the egg that was at the moment in a nice little crystal box. Zimrahin was instructed by the elleth in charge of bird breeding to leave it close to the fire as it would warm up enough that the egg would hatch but not so much it would cook it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A good 20 days had passed when Zimrahin heard a crack in the middle of the night. He woke up confused as his sleep had been light that night, of course, his face quickly changed as he saw a small beak break through the egg’s hard exterior. He could not aid them, that much he knew as the Bird Breeder told him, so he silently cheered the little thing and when it had finally hatched entirely, Zimrahin moved it on to a small but soft piece of cloth, it’s feathers appearing like a rainbow had filtered through a sea of shadows barely peeking through but so very there when the light hit it.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Moroval, that is to be your name from now on.” in exchange he pricked the tiny boy on the finger, some blood peeking out of the wound before the chick licked it, the wound disappearing immediately. And so Zimrahin slept that night with a new little fella on his pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>(and somewhere in Erebor at the very other side of Arda a nice Dwarrowdam pet a strangely coloured raven with fingers clad with many rings. She would be paying Bofur later for that amazing pipe at some point, for now, though she and Roac needed rest.)</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter four: Glowing gardens and a Mother’s stone.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Some time had passed since, Moroval now a strong raven and Zimrahin now being trained with weapons by his brothers. His favourite was sword fighting, though he could enjoy plenty using a bow. He was older now, closer to a Teen than to a Child, and baby fat had started to melt from his face and body with the training. Zimrahin would be tall, by hobbit standards anyway, he took after his Dwarven parent in that regard according to his Father.</p><p>Zimrahin got more curious by the day about them. It was true he could not remember his biological parents, and to be honest thankful as he is to have been created further there was no care of the sort like he had for his family, but it would be nice to know - the boy thought as he cleaned the bow he had used for training.</p><p>Zimrahin did not have a mother, he had a sister. And she took that motherly role most of the time, but she was not his mother. Perhaps he had one once, he didn’t know for not even the gender of his parents had been revealed to him. But sometimes, if he really felt lonely, and needed to feel that strange warmth that comes from being with your parents, he did not go to his father, though he loved his father, he really did. But his Ada, try as he may never quite got the hang of physical affection as he craved as a faunt.</p><p>At those times, times like this one actually, Zimrahin took the hidden path, a small path you could only see or even recognize once you were aware it existed. Perhaps because not many knew it remained hidden. It was done with small pebbles that shone sometimes, clear like glass, it guided you towards a small pond with a waterfall, though perhaps it was more of a fountain. Zimrahin had never seen the water reach further than it’s designated hole in the earth. Behind the waterfall though was a cave, it’s entrance somewhat small in height, clearly built for children, though Zimrahin knew he would fit even when he would be fully grown.</p><p>Further down the cave strange gems and flowers could be found. Anything that grew in it would inevitably glow against the stark darkness. Zimrahin knew it because he himself had once planted Iris seeds on it, just to see if he could, it is the reason there is a small area of glowing Irises near the end of the tunnel-like cave. You would know it’s the end because the sun filtered from the other archlike entrance, this one clearly sculpted with care and as you walked through it you would find a garden like no other, filled with the sweetest smells coming from the flowers, and a second pond closest to the wall of stone that surrounded the place. Even if the said stone had been overrun by vines, moss and flowers a long time ago.</p><p>In the middle of the place was a single tree. A giant one, old like no other he had ever seen, with branches so large it hid the place from flying beings while still letting the sunlight filter in, and on the side of the tree she laid still. She was, of course, a statue. Lady Celebrían had been immortalized in stone a long time ago, with her lifelike statue reclining on the tree-like she had only just sat down.</p><p>Zimrahin had discovered this place by accident as a child. It had been nighttime then, and he was trying to catch a very interesting butterfly he had seen glow, though he would soon discover it was simply an effect all life on The Garden seemed to have. He had thought of how beautiful it was and went running back to his family that was having somewhat of a picnic on the outer gardens. It was not an unusual sight considering ever since Zimrahin could see he craved looking at the night sky. So, every few nights they would eat outside.</p><p>He had told them of course, of the beautiful garden behind the waterfall. But most on the table looked sad at the thought of it. It was then his father explained the place had been built so his siblings could remember their mother in a peaceful manner, and though none of them went there anymore he was welcome to go as much as he pleased. He had not been told yet how the mother of his siblings had died, and would not be told for some time still, but the garden became Zimrahin’s personal sanctuary, a place he could rest without being worried about the rest of the world.</p><p>He would eventually get used to laying a small pillow or his rolled-up coat on the statue’s legs and using it as a place to nap, sometimes he swore he heard singing and someone running their fingers through his hair as he woke up, though he was always alone when he truly did wake up.</p><p>Zimrahin did not have a mother, but sometimes he wishes to be able to call Lady Celebrían his own.</p><p> </p><p>(and little did he know as far she was concerned; he was already her own.)</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>